


The Four Ages of Ginny Weasley

by Rythes



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, London, Not Canon Compliant - Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Wizarding Wars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-09
Updated: 2018-12-01
Packaged: 2018-12-25 18:13:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12041445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rythes/pseuds/Rythes
Summary: Based on the timeline of the Deathly Hallows, inspired by the Four Ages of Man by W.B. Yeats.Ginny Weasley celebrates her oldest brother's wedding while pondering her own love interest, which was an acceptable state of affairs for the young witch. But when Death Eaters attack, and she gets left behind (again), Ginny decides she needs a change of scene: she follows the trio to Muggle London, hoping to set things right and join them on their desperate attempt to locate and destroy Lord Voldemort's Horcruxes.





	1. The Body

_This is the beginning of a longer story, based on and in J.K. Rowling's Harry Potter Universe. I've never written anything for pleasure before, so feel free to let me know what you think, or where I might improve. Further chapters will break canon and develop a unique/interesting storyline._

She with body waged a fight,  
But body won; it walks upright.  
Then she struggled with the heart;  
Innocence and peace depart.  
Then she struggled with the mind;  
Her proud heart she left behind.  
Now her wars on God begin;  
At stroke of midnight God shall win.  
\- _W.B. Yeats (Pronouns Edited)_

 

Any outsider would think Ginny Weasley was having the time of her life. All of her extended family had gathered for Bill Weasley and Fleur Delacor's wedding. The ensemble included many distant relatives who hadn't been to the Burrow since she was a child; great aunts and uncles, second and third cousins, many of whom Ginny barely recognised, if she was honest.

It seemed her family and friends were finally starting to realise that she wasn't a child anymore. The fiery-haired girl had barely been off her feet all night, and had more offers to dance than she could say yes to. She had a feeling it was down to her relatives' attempt to place the pretty, young witch on their family tree. They pretended to know who she was but never used her name. They probably didn't want to risk getting it wrong. Ginny could not help but laugh at their confused efforts. She was having fun.

Chandeliers hung from the roof of the tent, and they glittered beautifully in the candlelight. The temperature was perfect, warm with the number of witches and wizards who had taken to the floor, but cooled by the night air. The soft clinking of glasses and low mumble of conversation mixed with the sound of music, which seemed to be coming from nowhere and everywhere. If there was a war on, there was no sign of it here. The magical protections around the burrow were as strong as they had been able to make them, and Ginny felt as safe as she had as a little girl, dreaming of heroes who vanquish the Dark Lord, and flying through the air on broomsticks.

She had even managed to stealthily slip a bottle of firewhiskey from the table when her parents had become too tipsy to notice, or maybe, to care. Her mind was now running at a million miles an hour.

She could see her parents over in the corner, probably doing something embarrassing beyond words. She tried not to look in their direction.

Ginny had, however been keeping an eye on Harry Potter all the while, and she could guess from his face that he would like to share what he thought of her antics. It had been Harry, though, not her, who had broken off their relationship after Dumbledore had died, and he didn't have a leg to stand on.

Yes, Ginny imagined a certain onlooker might think she was having a wonderful time without him, but that wasn't totally true. She couldn't help feeling a little guilty whenever her brown eyes made contact with his green ones; though the firewhiskey had helped quench those... stirrings.

She still had feelings for Harry. And he had feelings for her, that much was obvious. She just didn't quite know what to do about them. Harry had left her to "protect" her from Voldemort. And so far, admittedly, it had worked. She hated it, but the dancing was fun, and, she hoped, it was having exactly the effect she had been hoping for. 

***

Ron Weasley was suffering. His cousins seemed to be obsessed with his sister, which was worrying and a little sick, in Ron's eyes. Harry, standing beside him, looked lovesick. This also made him turn green. His parents had become far too drunk, that was for certain. Worst of all, Victor Krum was here, and Ron had said something to insult Hermione. By Merlin's Beard, he couldn't figure out what had triggered her. She had not appreciated him telling her so.

Things looked bleak. Harry was no comfort, following Ron's sister forlornly with his eyes. He wanted to slap him.

It wasn't that Ron didn't approve of the relationship. But when Harry had broken up with Ginny, he had expected him to keep some bloody distance. Was that not the point?

Ron just rolled his eyes. He had given up at this point. He knew he could not look out for Ginny forever. They were at war. He had to look after all his family, all his friends. Besides, by the looks of things, Harry was not going to let her out of his sights, and Ron might as well be off duty where her protection was concerned.

With that, Ron decided he needed some air. On his way to the entrance of the large gazebo, he spotted Hermione, in a flowing red dress, now in conversation with Ginny. "Better Ginny than Krum", his mind mused. He laughed, painfully mocking his own jealousy. Who could have guessed he would feel this way, now, when only a few years ago, the young, bushy haired witch who had invaded his carriage had been a minor annoyance and nothing else?

Ron reached the entrance, and ducked outside. The air was crisp, cool, and it numbed him. He hated dressrobes, he could not even wear a cloak with them. He was either too hot or too cold, and could not win. In truth, all of Ron's minor troubles meant nothing, even to him. His family and friends were all safe and alive despite Voldemort's best effort.

He still hated thinking that name. The uncomfortable feeling attached to that name still made itself known. A reflex left from another time.

Ron's gaze travelled absently to the shield, its blue hue distracting, but it was also keeping everyone alive, and the creepy glow was a small price to pay. He needed to be positive.

"Yeah, I haven't lost anyone yet", he whispered to thin air. To Ron, that was winning.

He moved to rejoin the crowd, but he picked movement up in his peripheral. His head whipped around, wand already out. Something had come through the shield. Something small, obscured by the grass. It was behind him now. It was no longer small, now a man, his wand against the soft flesh of his throat. Ron had cared for that rat for years. He had recognised it immediately, and when Peter Pettigrew transfigured beside him, he felt no shock, only dull surprise that no one had checked if the barrier could not only differentiate friend and foe, but animagi too.

The barrier was easy to lower from the inside, and as Pettigrew waved his silver hand, it disappeared before their eyes. The pressure lifted from his neck. Pettigrew was gone, in rat form again no doubt.

Ron tried to turn, and found he could not move, then tried to speak, and heard nothing. Pettigrew had locked his legs and placed a silencing charm over him.

He knew the countercurse. He also knew it would take at least five minutes to fully break out of the body lock. Panic rising, Ron started chanting. He had to warn his family in time. Nothing else mattered.

***

Earlier, Ginny had crossed the dance floor with difficulty, dodging guests, to stand beside Hermione. They had become good friends after sharing a room at the Burrow. Ginny knew, should tonight go wrong, leaving her and Harry in a worse place than at the beginning of the night, it was Hermione that she could count on to listen. If she wanted her to. In some ways Hermione was the big sister she never had. But Ginny wouldn't worry her with her troubles. She never worried anyone with her troubles. Except Harry, once.

In a family full of older brothers, you cannot afford to show weakness. Your troubles could become the inspiration for the next line of products from "Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes". A memory jumped to mind: when her brothers had stocked 'Fresh Pickled Toads' for a while when she had begun dating Harry, credit has been given to 'G.W: Poet'.

Hermione was looking at her with a bemused expression, and the younger girl realised that she had been thinking aloud.

"I don't think I'm very good at confiding in people", Ginny frowned.

Hermione blinked at her. "What? Merlin's Beard, Ginny, are you drunk?".

Ginny just giggled.

But Hermione was looking past her, shock written on her features. Ginny spun on the spot, almost falling over, to see what everyone in the room was now focused on.

A silver lynx came falling through the canopy onto the dance floor. The stranger aspect of this did not quite register in her mind. Ginny did not hear what it said as its mouth moved, but beside her, she heard her friend say something unexpected.

"Shit..."

There was a loud crash, Ginny saw a table flip. The chandelier fell, almost in slow motion, from the roof of the tent. It broke into a thousand pieces. Ginny just stood, confused. This was her brother’s wedding. Nothing was allowed to happen. She saw people apparating from the corner of her eye. The protective enchantments must have been broken!

Figures in dark cloaks entered the fray, and, too late, Ginny drew her wand.

She saw Harry running, throwing curses and jinxes as he dodged behind cover. He dived behind a table, and their eyes met just before Hermione grabbed him and, as Ron dove from outside the tent to grab her other hand, they disapparated. Ginny cried out, and tried to run for the spot the trio had been in seconds earlier.

"So much left unsaid..."

The first flashes of green light reflected in the broken shards on the floor. She saw a guest throw a stunner over his shoulder as he ran, which rebounded and, before she could think to move, it had hit her. The world went dark.

***

Ginny awoke. The light of her new surrounding was too bright, and she was momentarily blinded. After a moment she forced her eyes open. She remembered being hit by a stunner, but not much else.

She could see the moon from here. Bright and piercing, it lit everything around her But there was something wrong with the image. There was something in the way, in the sky. Was it... the Dark Mark?

Remembering suddenly what had happened, Ginny jumped from where she lay and tried to look around, but the room spun dangerously. She thudded, heavily, back onto her back.

It was still dark outside. She mustn't had been out long. Panic had begun to set in. Was anyone hurt? Where was her family? She needed answers, so once she realised that she was in her room - perhaps she had been hit harder than she realised at first - she rose, wobbled towards her door and half walked, half fell down the stairs.

Her father heard her coming and appeared at the bottom of the stairs, catching her as she nearly tripped down the last few steps.

"Dad!", Ginny cried, "Are you okay, is anyone hurt?" Her Dad hugged her; "I'm fine, we're all fine. Most people apparated out, and since Voldemort only wanted Harry, the Death Eaters left once they realised he wasn't there. They didn't need to spill more potentially 'pure' blood. Once they saw you... go down, they cast the Dark Mark and left. We thought..."

Arthur Weasley sighed. "Are you okay, Ginny? We were worried you wouldn't wake up..."

" I'm fine, Dad, just a stunner that rebounded". Then, "Where's Harry?".

Her father looked grim. Leading her into the softly lit kitchen, he spoke softly.

"Your mother’s a little upset. They took off. It’s clearly not safe for Harry here, and not safe for us while he's here. I for one, don't care. I'd rather he were with us, but we both know that Harry's too noble to put us in danger..."

Ginny felt something heavy hit the pit of her stomach, remembering that she had seen Harry apparating away. Leaving her behind. Mixtures of fear and anger flared inside her, but the young witch did her best to keep her emotions in check. She would have something for Harry when he returned. This particular stunt had earned him a bat bogey hex - Ginny's specialty.

He wasn't allowed to leave her like this. Without saying goodbye, without telling her where he was going...

She closed her eyes, trying to find any answer that would satisfy her. She was not even sure what she was questioning.

She cared for him, she knew, but she didn't own Harry Potter. It didn't matter how she felt, he had the greatest Dark wizard, likely ever, to kill.

"Priorities, Ginny... He'll be back once he's saved the world", she thought to herself.

She exhaled, realised her fists had been clenched, and relaxed them.

Molly Weasley had her back to her husband and daughter as they entered the kitchen side by side. Ginny heard her mother muttering, "Oh, they could be anywhere by now!" She had a muggle map on the table.

Ginny watched her for a moment, then spoke calmly. "It won't help, Mum. You won't find them. If you can find them, so can He".

She bit her tongue. She knew no one needed to hear something like that right now.

Molly stopped, losing focus on the map.

"Well, I have their attention", Ginny thought. She braced herself for the reaction, then said what had been on her mind since remembering that the trio had left.

"I'm going after them".

Her parents turned to look at her. Then they started talking loudly, wasting air. Looking at her mother, Ginny was reminded of a clucking hen. They were both talking at her now. She had expected this reaction. She just stared vacantly back, then sat down. She was angry again. Ginny Weasley, always too young. It didn't matter what she thought, everyone else had final say. She felt sometimes that she was more protected than even the Boy Who Lived.

Ginny didn't want what he had; that fame came with a terrible price. It was not fame she wanted. She just wanted to fight for what she cared about. For who she cared about. Neither Ginny nor Harry seemed to have the luxury of free will. Harry had to fight, or see the world perish. Ginny wasn't given the chance to choose at all. She realised, of course, that her problems were nothing on Harry's. That her overprotective family held worth beyond words, beyond compare to Harry's only living relatives. She only wanted to have the freedom of choice her other siblings  had: to stand with them.

Of course, Harry had only his two best friends standing with him now. They had cut everyone else out of the equation, even Ginny.

The trio thought they could take the darkest wizard in living memory alone. She could understand not wanting the order breathing down their necks, but Ginny was Ron's brother, Harry's...

She lost focus.

Harry needed her now more than ever. That was clear to her. No matter the specifics of things between them.

She was also one step ahead of her mother. She knew, generally speaking, where Harry was. Being privy to some of the trio's planning, she knew their first port of call would be Muggle London. Death Eaters weren't yet brave enough to blatantly murder muggles. London was still in, mostly, a normal state. And easy to hide in....

Ginny knew the city was impossibly large, but she also knew she had to try. If she couldn't find Harry, no one could. She did not really care how big-headed that sounded.

Her mother placed a cup of warm tea in front of her, the Weasley matriarch's energy sapped. Ginny wrapped one hand around it, grateful for the warmth.

Her parents were talking quietly behind her. She ignored them. She needed a plan. Ginny couldn't apparate yet. Certainly not that far. She would take a broom. It wasn't too far to Diagon Alley. If her brother could fly to Hogwarts in a dodgy old muggle car in his second year, she could get as far as Diagon Alley.

In that moment, despite rising fear and common sense combatting every thought Ginny had, she decided.

She would leave before morning. She first needed some advice, from the experts in all things rulebreaking. Looking at her father, she asked "Where are the twins?".

End of Part I.

Footnote:  
I disclaim any ownership of any aspect of Harry Potter and all related to it.  
I claim that this is a transformative parody in line with Free Use as a nonprofit work not effecting the value of J.K. Rowling's work, with no work of J.K. Rowling's used substantially, and therefore legal.

 


	2. The Mind

"No bloody way!"  
The twins stared at her, disbelief written on their faces. They were grinning from ear to ear, and Ginny would have laughed out loud at their faces had she not been so determined to prove her sincerity. "I'm certain I'm going to go through with this", she spoke firmly in answer, her sparkling eyes daring them to shoot her down.

Just as she had hoped, they did not consider it for a second.

Fred rubbed his hands together. "We'll cause a distraction, won't we Georgie?"  
"Naturally", came the reply. By reflex, Ginny was a little surprised at the complete acceptance the twins had of her plan. "That’s it, no "you're too young Ginny"?". The twins smirked coyly.

"Ron's our brother, Harry’s our friend, and Hermione, well, she's Hermione. We would be after them ourselves, but we had a sneaking suspicion you might want claim this one, given... well, Harry".

The twins laughter only intensified when they noticed that her face was now a similar shade to her hair. Nobody who had not lost their marbles would consider Fred and George booksmart, but they were sharp of wit and mind alike, when they wanted to be.

Calming a little, Fred continued; "Well, if you go by broom, you better take one of ours, they're newer and faster. But you can't carry it around London... and the Ministry could track you if you floo..." There was silence as the three red haired siblings pondered the issue. Ginny gave a smile, seeing the Twin’s focus. Finding a way around rules was one of their strongest skills.

George clicked his fingers suddenly, a small grin gracing his features; "Greengots!"  
His siblings looked blankly at him.  
"Greengots! Use the family vault and deposit the broom. Since it's a family account, you can access it. You're of the same blood."  
Ginny was still blinking at him. She spoke. "That's our parents vault, I'm underage, how can I access it?".  
"Trust me, you can. You just need to be closely related to the owner, no other strings attached. We use the full extent of Greengots services for the shop, they don't teach you these things in school, but we learned quickly. Family vaults are somewhat, beneficial to enterprises like ours, wouldn't you say, Fred?"  
Fred just laughed. Ginny’s forehead creased. "Beneficial? What makes one vault better than the next?..." Ginny's eyes widened. "You're avoiding Ministry tax!"  
"Now now, our advice will serve you quiet nicely, so I don't think you're in a good position to argue our motives. Besides, there’s rumours of You Know Who’s return. Business is far from booming". Ginny rolled her eyes.

She would never betray her older brothers regardless, but they also knew everything about her plan, and could let details ‘slip’. She just thanked them, then disappeared to her room, pretending not to hear her mother call her. She needed to pack, and to think without being interrupted.  
Walking into her room, Ginny closed the door and went to her wardrobe. She instinctively donned her knitted Weasley jumper, hand-made by her mother each Yule, and wrapped herself in blankets that had piled up in a corner over time. She could feel a little of spoiled sanctity of her haphazardly-perched home returning. When she had been a child, only in the darkest of her nightmares would Death Eaters tread in the same garden she had, growing up. Only in her wildest fantasies would she be running away with the Boy Who Lived, the hero who had featured her picture-books. While not quite as she had imagined, both of these unlikely impossibilities were now very much real. "It's a pity I'm still running after Harry, not with him", she laughed to herself. The young Gryffindor found it hard to stay angry with him. She always had.

The weather had cleared, the clouds there by nature of the Dark Mark having dissipated. However the countryside still lay blanketed in night. Perched on her bed, Ginny came to the realisation that if she was going through with this, that now was the time. Noises sounded from the stairwell and two pairs of feet moved past her room. She imagined her parents were going to 'catch some shuteye', as the Weasley Patriarch often called it. Just one of his many quirky catchphrases, absorbed from Muggle literature, which the rest of the family claimed to hate but secretly laughed at when no one was looking.  
With the obstacle of her parents out of the way, she could move more freely, and the darkness would cover her from any eyes gazing out of windows.  
There was another thing to consider. The longer she waited, the more likely it became that the trio would move on from London. Not even Ginny, brave and determined as she was, could comb the entire English countryside. It had to happen tonight.

She spent a final few minutes sitting in her room. Looking around, she took in her belongings. Many were childish, old books and toys. She did not have it in her to throw them out; they reminded her of better days. She buried that thought as deeply as she could.  
She did not miss the Burrow just yet. It would hit her later, she knew.  
Ginny stood and walked over to her window, the view half-lit by pale moonlight. She traced random patterns idly on the pane with her finger, lost in thought.  
There was a possibility that she would be gone for a long stretch of time, if Harry let her stay with them. She may not return, at all. The trio were fighting a real war, where there were real casualties. Not everyone would make it through. Ginny was intelligent; this had all occurred to her before, but she felt as if she could not quite appreciate what she was undertaking. This was running away, away from everything she knew.  
She would be with Harry, though, and that made up for it, tenfold.

Ginny had never been soppy, but when it came to Harry, things were different.  
"Come on Ginny, you're stalling..." she whispered lowly to her quaint reflection, then laid her forehead against the glass, trying to push herself into action. It was time.  
Getting downstairs was easy. She often came down to settle by the dying embers of the fire when she found it difficult to sleep. She was accustomed to every creak and loose floorboard, and dodging the particularly noisy step half way down was second nature.  
The grate was cold, and there was almost no light, but Ginny had grown up in this kitchen, and could find her way around blindly; lumos might have been bright enough to wake someone. It was not worth the risk.  
It could only get more difficult from here.

The witch crawled on hands and knees, to be sure of not hitting anything, towards the front door. The surface beneath her palms was cold, very cold, and she shivered slightly. She had more clothes in her backpack, but had forgotten gloves. Then again, where she was going, not having gloves would be the least of her worries.  
Ginny almost stopped right there and turned around, back to her bed. She'd wake up to the smell of breakfast cooking, to the constant symphony of movement and doing that was the Weasley Household. She could pretend that nothing had changed, that nothing mattered, just like old times.

Her heart was breaking in half. One half yearned for safety and security and family. The other for adventure, and life, and love.  
"This isn't choosing. You can always turn right around and fly home if you like", a voice inside her head spoke, consoling.  
And so she kept moving.  
The night air was damp, as if the sky wanted to rain but could not quiet bring itself to. Ginny wrapped her arms around herself, shivering. She had flown in similar conditions before. As long as the rain was light, when it came, visibility would be perfect. The cold could be a bigger problem, but Hermione had shown her a few warming charms during the last quidditch season, and she was sure she could remember a few.

She turned to look back at her home. A single light was on, and Ginny immediately crouched, cursing. This was not the time to be seen. A hand waved from the window, and Ginny breathed a sigh of relief when she realised the light was emitting from Fred and George's room. She waved back, a small smile on her lips.  
The witch reached the shed, and examined her options. Fred's broom was newer then her's and George's had been a little banged up after a bad landing a few days ago. She grabbed Fred’s broom,, tying her bag securely to the handle with a piece of old string that had been left on the floor of the old, wooden shed. She did not dare think of the implications of what she was doing, especially her mother's reaction. The rest of her family could handle Molly's wrath, as they had many times before.

Ginny hoped that the majority of her family would support her choice - they were just as affected by the night’s events as her. Her brothers would understand her drive to fight. Her father would do his best to keep her mother calm, but she hoped he would be a little proud of the independence she was seizing. She really hoped.  
"Gotta stay focused, take this broom, fly away, find Harry. Simple, right?".  
Willing her suddenly guilty conscious to leave her be, she threw a leg on either side of the handle. Madam Hooche's voice spoke in her mind; a memory from her very first flying lesson.  
"Breath in, push from the knees, kick hard..."  
And she was away.

Her mind was a mess, a jumble of memories and thoughts; and she soon realised why. Her flying was slightly off - the alcohol was still affecting her. She was not all there, and fear gripped her suddenly for the first time since concocting her plan. She could imagine the story that would be told if she did not make it...  
"Poor little Ginny, got a little tipsy and decided to fall off her broom over London City. Took ages for the Ministry to clean that one up".  
"What am I doing!?", she yelled at herself, words catching in the wind that was blowing her hair into her face, obscuring what little she could see in the moonlight.  
She heard a voice like Harry's in her head; "Persevere!"  
"That sounded like the heroic bull that you're prone to spouting!", Ginny yelled at nothing over the wind. Yet she gritted her teeth, and flew.  
Time passed, yet the sun had not ventured from beyond the horizon when Ginny saw Diagon Alley appear below her. She had been flying over the outskirts of London for some time, staying high to avoid being spotted. She had never been more glad to see the small Wizarding community.

She had been a little apprehensive of landing in Diagon Alley, everyone took the Floo Network or apparated there. “I hope it’s magically possible to land at all...”: Who knew what the Ministry, under its new management, may have already changed? At the same time, landing in Central London on a flying broomstick definitely not an option either. Below her, she spotted an small, open yard behind the Leaky Cauldron, with a number of brooms stacked on rails. It was lit by a number of lanterns, a stark contrast to the dark surrounding it; business owners having closed for the night. It wasn’t clear if the yard was used for public landing or private storage, but Ginny decided to risk it.

Time spent as a Seeker for Gryffindor had taught her how to quickly fall into steep dive, with accuracy, and she landed almost exactly where she had meant to. “150 points to Weasley!”, she laughed to herself, smiling broadly, then leapt off the borrowed broom. There was precious little to see in the meager yard that she had landed in. Out of curiosity she tried the nearby door, but it did not budge on the first push, so the girl abandoned it after a final, defiant kick.  
She didn’t quiet trust the locals and usuals of the Cauldron - she was close enough to Knockturn Alley as it was - so she tied the broom to her pack, secured under her backpack. Ginny noticed then what she hadn’t from the sky; the small yard was segregated from Diagon Alley. “Ah, fudge...”, she groaned. She was surrounded by high walls, and the back entrance to the public house seemed very locked.  
“Could probably fly over...?”. The statement became a question that hung in the air.  
She debated for a moment longer, then tried to think of what Fred and George would do. An obvious answer would be to blow the wall out of the way. Or avoid it entirely...?

A memory played out in her mind’s eye: ... Running with brothers through fields... The sun setting; they needed to get home or Mom would be livid... Approaching a fence, the girl cried a warning, but her brothers didn’t slow, instead lifted her clean off her feet as they leapt clear of the wire... Fred and George laughing as she screamed then landed, safely supported by their arms either side, gripping her tightly...  
“Okay boys, this one’s for you...”  
Ginny was heavier and larger than in the past, but she was stronger too. She ran, she jumped, tucked her knees...  
Clear! Ginny landed with a heavy thud in a heap in an abandoned Diagon Alley. She stood, shaken but very much alive with all her bones intact. “Ginny: one; wall; zero!”, her cry turning to whisper in diminuendo instinctively as she surveyed the empty street.  
The witch gasped as she reached beside her, feeling the broom for damage. She’d forgotten all about it!  
It did not seem worse for wear, so she allowed herself to breath out shakily. To think what the twins would have said if it had snapped! Anyone who had ever suffered the effects of their various products totally feared the twin’s retribution. “Stay calm and think before you act, Gin!”, she chastised herself, rolling her eyes before moving off in the direction of Greengots.  
Diagon Alley was a little creepy by night. In the past, it had always been bustling and lively, but at this hour, it may as well had been a ghost town. With that thought, a strange feeling come over her, as if she was being watched as she walked. It was not a good feeling, and she couldn’t help but feel insecure, her hair whirling about as she glanced back over her shoulder every minute or two. There wasn’t much to see without the familiar daylight that usually lit the street while Ginny was there. She hurried forward, drawing her wand, for what little comfort the  
long thin stick offered.

Greengots soon appeared out of the dark before her. She had never been more pleased to see the marble columns stretched above her head.  
Ginny hurried inside, ducking the low, goblin-sized door. The bank was as open as ever. She had been expecting this, however. Not even the Dark Lord could scare the Goblins. As Bill often said, they didn’t care about Wizards unless it had something to do with gold, and Wizarding affairs are not their concern, until they directly affected them. There was one thing to be said for the Coup, Ginny mused: she seemed to be the only witch in sight. The Goblins worked as they always did, but they had no customers to serve. “They probably prefer it that way,” she muttered, but cast her eyes done when she realised that she was being watched. She chuckled. Ginny Weasley seemed the only soul brave enough to venture out tonight: she must look crazy.

She approached the counter at top of the room. This would be the difficult part; Ginny had no idea what to do, she had used Greengots’ services before. She had never needed to. Her parents or older brothers often took care of this type of thing. Ginny crossed her fingers behind her back, a superstitious muggle habit she’d picked up from Harry.  
The Goblin’s blank expression of feigned disinterest was betrayed by sparkling, calculating eyes. She felt as through her value was being judged by the small creature. She stopped, waiting.  
“Greetings. How may the Bank of Greengots serve you this night?”  
Ginny cleared her throat, feeling as if she had swallowing a lump. “I... I would like to access my Family Vault. Please.”  
“Please submit your wand for examination and place your hand on this sigil for identification, Madam”.  
Ginny faltered. Nobody in her family had ever been asked to perform these checks before. A spike of panic shot through her. The Goblin seemed to read her mind. “New instructions arrived from the Ministry today. Please comply”.  
Begrudgingly, and with growing unease, she handed her wand to the Goblin. He studied it for a brief moment before handing it back. He then gestured to a strange circular symbol on the desk. Ginny raised her hand slowly and rested it on the desk. There was a glow from between her fingers, and a disembodied voice spoke: “Weasley - Pureblood”.  
Ginny’s mouth fell open. Why did her blood status matter? Again, as if speaking to a child, the Goblin drawled, “As a Pureblood Witch, no excess Ministry Tax has been applied to your account. Please follow me”.

Ginny was horrified. The Death Eater-controlled Ministry had acted quickly. She dumbly followed the Goblin. The journey was a blur of doors lit by torchlight. Reality seemed to have caught up with her, and the implications of a new, darker government with it. Ginny knew that she would have to find Harry quickly before Death Eaters, or even the Ministry forced the Trio to run even further.  
They stopped before a large, old iron door. The Goblin drew his finger downwards before the door, and an elongated shadow cast on the door followed. The door creaked open slowly.

She was surprised to see that the vault was empty, but Ginny soon remembered that her parents probably did not even know that this vault existed. The Twins had made it out to be a lesser known trick after all...  
She took the broom from her back, and placed it gently in the vault, then stepped back, a small sense of triumph growing within her. The first part of her mission was completed, and it had gone off, more or less, without a hitch. The Goblin closed the vault door as Ginny turned her back to it. She was sensitive to the passage of time now. She had to hurry.

The journey to the Bank’s main chamber was a blur once more. She moved quietly through the building and exited the way she had come in. Diagon Alley was still shrouded in darkness, but she did not dare light her way. If the Ministry really was totally corrupted, then trouble could lurk around any corner, either in the shape of the Law itself or those who refuse to abide by it.  
The Leaky Cauldron’s back entrance, disguised as a brick wall, appeared ahead of her, to her relief. This, at least, was a part of Diagon Alley that she was familiar with. She had always liked the tavern styled building - it was a little rugged, like home. It was here that the Weasley clan had often made camp for longer excursions and shopping trips in years gone by. Now, however, the Cauldron seemed as deserted as the rest of the small Wizarding community. No lights shone from the inside, and the wall, when prodded, didn’t budge. Ginny sighed. She didn’t see any option but to apparate to the Muggle entrance. Inexperienced as she was with Apparition, she was sure that she could make it that far… without even splicing herself. Hopefully.  
Ginny stepped back from the brick wall, took a deep breath, and spun.

She felt a horrible, sickening feeling, like all her organs were trying to turn inside out, then found herself standing dizzily on the front steps of the Leaky Cauldron. The noise was deafening. Objects flew by in a blur. Everything was bathed in a yellow, artificial light. A stampede of muggles on foot walked by, all moving purposefully, and Ginny jumped back out of the way into the doorway of the Leaky Cauldron. As the objects slowed she realised that she had been looking at muggle cars, moving at breakneck speeds into the night. Now they had stopped, bathed in red light.  
It was incredible, alien and frightening. She felt a sudden, all encompassing need to get away, to get anywhere but here. Taking a deep breath, she joined the throng and was carried forward into the night.


	3. The Heart

Ginny could hear the blood rush, could hear her heart hammering in her ears, louder even than the traffic of the city around her as she ran. The crowd of pedestrians carried her along still, but she was fighting desperately to escape the throng now. It never seemed to let up, and while it had thinned, now other muggles were moving swiftly in the other direction. It was like the sea: pulled this way and that, and she was barely able to stand. She stumbled into a couple, then stumbled away, shouting apologies, to the side of the street. Finally, she was able to take a second to breathe. She stood again in a doorway, watching the nightlife pass. It was clear to her now why her parents rarely took the family out to London - this was utterly chaotic. She had known that the Wizarding community was smaller than the muggle population by a fair amount - her father had told her as much - but she was hit, suddenly, by an astounding feeling of sonder as she watched muggle life flash by, in unending hurry, to be somewhere, to do something. It was terrific.

Her breath hung in the air like thin wisps of cloud, and she instinctively wrapped her arms around herself, affronted by the city sprawling out before her. From nowhere, there came a grunt. Ginny grasped her wand immediately, then jumped away when she looked down to her side. Curled in the same doorway as she was a lump of a man in a sleeping bag, who gazed up at her with wide eyes and a slightly open mouth. She opened her mouth to speak, but the man was faster, and began muttering almost inaudibly at her. She caught words, more a repeated mantra: “Any spare change? … Any spare change? Any Sp…” 

Ginny caught his meaning suddenly. She looked around, and seeing nobody who might get her out of her situation, she hurriedly reached into her pocket for money before the man got any louder. Her hand closed around a galleon, but she realised, just before furnishing it, that it would be entirely useless to the man. She stood motionless in the absurdity of her situation, and caught the shift in the man’s eyes from her face to her hand, still in her pocket. “Whatever”, she muttered to herself and handed the man the gold. Ginny saw his face light up for a moment, then she turned away hurried down the street.

She was lost - she was sure of that if nothing else. With every corner she turned the witch began to wonder how each street could be clearly unique while maintaining an utter sameness compared to every other grey pavement, and every other bustling crowd. The city seemed neverending. Ginny felt very small, and very alone. She definitely felt very foolish. “What on Earth was I thinking…? I have no idea where I am; I have no idea where I'm going! Ron, Hermionie, Harry… They could be anywhere!”. She cursed firewhisky - for all its joys, she had a suspicion that it had played a part in her decision-making tonight. Far from the romantic vision she had of rescuing Harry from some mortal peril and forcing him to let her stay out of gratitude - that had been a little unrealistic in hindsight - it now looked like she would be the one being rescued. “This is really not what I had planned…”

But, what had she had planned? If she had a plan of action, it was forgotten now. She was reminded of a story from Harry’s first year, when, after he and Ron had (somehow) defeated a troll, Professor McGonegal had awarded Griffendore house points for, as Harry loved to quote, “sheer dumb luck”. She frowned. “Wouldn't mind a bit of that right about now”.

Ginny turned another corner and was pleasantly surprised to see something other than a sidewalk. In front of her, a side street exited off into a small square, guarded on every side by grey buildings, like some armoured security detail. In the center of the arrangement was a couple of mundane benches, lit by a typical city lamppost overhead. Atypically, there was a small patch of well-kept grass around the benches, in contrast to the darker city all around. Ginny felt warmer suddenly, and so she hurried forward to plant herself on a brightly lit bench.

Looking around, she noticed that the square that she had stumbled upon really seemed to go nowhere. She was dimly aware that this meant that it was of no use to her search in the long run, but that didn’t matter. Her father, a lower class family man on a Ministry wage, had taught her to view the World with a ‘glass-half-full” mentality, and she did her very best to honor him now. She had, at least, found a definite place where Harry, currently, was not. The girl sighed; it was something, wasn’t it?  
Ginny was coming to a painful realization - this was not okay. She was alone, she was lost, and she was cold. Her chances of finding the trio were a million to one in the endlessness of the city. She needed to reconsolidate and begin searching likely spots in the city methodologically. “Oh, Merlin’s beard, I’m starting to sound like Herminone...” 

Ginny could work on fixing that particular problem later. For now, she would do what her parents had always told her to do if she was lost: she would flag down the Knightbus. She gave one last, desperate look around, in hope that the Boy Who Lived might appear suddenly, granting relief, before jumping resolutely to her feet - it was really too frigid not to be in constant motion at this hour - and hurried once more towards the streetlights.  
Finding a quiet street from which to flag down the Knightbus was not as arduous as she had thought it would be. Now aware of the periodic side alleyways that broke away from the packed street, she only needed to walk 100 meters before finding a deserted one. She hurried quickly away from the noise of the friendlier part of the city, glancing back over her shoulder as she moved. She was allowing herself to feel a little hopeful. Perhaps, relocating herself at a famous landmark in London would make her feel a little less lost. Hermione had shown her pictures of the London Eye. She could view the layout of the city from there and, if she lost her way, could use the lofty landmark to guide herself. 

“Yes, this could work...”, she mused softly, rubbing her hands together. She maintained focus on the little amount of hope she now felt, doing her very best to ignore the ominous atmosphere of the alley. “After all, I can take any muggle who decides to try anything funny, as long as they don’t get the jump on me.”  
She was fairly certain, anyway.

The alley carried on, winding its way deeper into the heart of the city. Ginny emerged onto a small cul de sac and smiled broadly. She was now totally lost, but the residential road she had found herself on was quiet and empty: the perfect place for the Knightbus to find her. She drew her wand with sleight of hand, before glancing around. Satisfied she was not being watched, Ginny pointed her wand at the nearest lamppost and muttered, “Reducto”. A crash sounded, much louder than she had anticipated, and she turned her face away from the glass that showered down, tinkling. Steadying herself once again, she scanned the surrounding houses for signs of activity. Nothing stirred. Frustrated at her own foolishness - she had given away her position while trying to hide her presence - she allowed a few minutes to pass before raising her wand again. “I’m not exactly sure how this works...”, she sighed. “Ahem. I need the Knightbus. Please...”

Nothing happened for several moments. Ginny frowned. “Fuck. How will I find my way back to Diagon Alley now?” She lowered her wand sheepishly. The witch had only just turned on her heels when the screeching of breaks on tires caused her to whip around and, to her delight, find a purple AEC Regent III RT gleaming in the remaining streetlights. 

A man she recognized as Stan Shunpike from Harry’s tale of the man smiled at her. The smile did not quiet reach his eye, and Ginny noticed that the young wizard was gripping the rail rather tightly. She froze for a moment, but rationalized - anybody working the night He Who Must Not be Named held a Coup D’Etat would be nervous. Especially a bus whose function and purpose was to collect random stranded strangers.

“Ahem... welcome to the Knightbus, transportation for the stranded witch or wizard. Where can I take you tonight, Mrs...?”  
“Weasley”, Ginny replied, then cringed when she realised that she had given her name away. Too late now. “Um, the London Eye, please?”

She paid the fare and plonked herself down on the nearest bed. She felt a little uneasy, and understood why when she happened to glance up and notice Stan watching her. They locked eyes, and Ginny immediatly looked away. Why was this guy looking at her like that? Surely there were pleanty of stranded witches and wizards tonight. She wasn’t an anomily.

Ginny closed here eyes, realisation taking hold. There were pleanty of stranded witches and wizards tonight, the night that the Ministry was taken over. Yet there was no one else aboard the Knightbus. The Ministry ran the Knightbus. She may as well have waltzed into the death-eater controlled Ministry Atrium. 

“On second thoughts, I can walk from here. Care to pull over?” Stan eyes glinted at her. “Pull over? I couldn’t possibly. You’ve paid the full fare. Couldn’t have you getting less than your money’s worth, could I? Besides. Its a dangerous night to be wandering around *alone*, young Miss Weasly. Who knows what He Who Must Not be Named would do to a pretty young woman like yourself? 

Stan had his eyes fixed on her, but time spent in the DA with Harry, as well as as Seeker, had given Ginny excellent peripheral vision. Her heart began hammering in her chest as she saw Stan reach into the pocket of his robes. Her breath caught, and a voice in her head, that sounded a lot like Harry’s, screamed “React!”. 

Instinct took over, and Ginny’s wand was levelled at the man before his was even out of his robe pocket. She screamed, “Stupify!” as she lept to her feet. The flash of red light struck Stan square in his chest, and he slumped in a heap on the floor. Not wasting a moment, Ginny pointed her wand at the driver. “Pull over. Now”. The driver seemed to have no qualms about this. That might have something to do with the wand pointed at the back of his head, she found herself musing. 

As she beat a hasty retreat, she couldn’t help but look back over her shoulder at the pile of a man who was still collasped in a heap. “His name is Voldemort, and like his little minions, he is only a man”. Harry would be proud. She resisted the urge to spit, reminding herself what a lecture Molly would give her if she saw her behaving like that in public: instead she gave the man a solid kick. Much better!

Somewhere not too far away, a lower ranking Death Eater gave a smile as the Ministry instruments noted the breaching of not only the underage magic restrictions but more importantly, of the Taboo on the name of the Dark Lord in the same location. They had been watching for this. Only the underaged Boy-Who-Lived was know to frequently breach the social taboo of the Dark Lord’s name. The Death Eater smiled. “We’ve got him...”


	4. Now Her War on God Begins

Ginny Weasley stepped off the Knightbus, feeling victorious, into the night again. Glancing quickly around, she soon spotted the lofty structure of the London Eye towering above the Muggle residential buildings surrounding her. She had yet to come up with a better plan than her Hermione-themed 'London Eye Approach', so she started towards her goal again, determined to find Harry. She had come so far! Turning back now would be embarrassing. The twins would probably never let it go.

Besides, she had already stunned someone - things couldn’t really get much worse, she thought. Best continue on and see where she ended up, Gryffindor style.

She hadn't gone 200 meters when she felt a strange prickling at the back of her neck. She could have sworn that she had heard the faintest popping noise. Her DA and Order training kicked in and the witch began to scan her surroundings, while feigning that she had noticed nothing.

She remembered Harry running this exact scenario in Fourth Year. Using his Father's cloak had been another stroke of genius from Hermione, leaving Harry - the assailant - undetectable, even by charms like Homenum Revelio. Except by Dumbledore. Cause Dumbledore was just that good. Even Hermione hadn't be able to puzzle that one out. The exercise had been a good idea, anyway. It was frightening, not knowing where you were going to be attacked from, having to raise a shield rapid if you happened to spot it coming out of the corner of your eye. It was somehow even more exhilarating when it was _Harry_ under the cloak... Knowing he was watching her, giving 100% focus, waiting for her to drop her guard. For a minute, they were the only two important things in the whole world.

If she _was_ being followed, the situation was pretty much the same. Watch your surrounds, scan peripherally, be ready. One notable exception - this stalker didn't have a supercloak. Ginny slid her wand from her pocket and muttered "Homenum Revelio", as casually as she could. A shilloute lit up like an azure firework to her left. Her instincts had been reliable, for once. "Okay... breath... One guy, one stunner, direct hit hopefully, cast and dodge, then shield and reorientate... Now!"

As Ginny raised her wand arm, everything seemed to happen at once.

The spell was already on her lips as she spun and pointed, releasing the perfect stunner direct into the silhouette's chest. Whoever it was had been waiting and watching, and had become a sitting duck. The stalker crumpled in a blue, glowing heap. Ginny moved to follow through, leaping towards the felled target, but cried out as something hit her from behind. She heard twin shouts of "Impedimenta!" from her rear. She stumbled, off balance, as the second jinx struck true. The witch tried to roll to absorb the impact of her fall but still landed on one wrist, a sharp pain shooting up her forearm. Harry's voice sounded in her head: "Of course there was more than one! Amateur mistake, Ginny!"

Her failed roll, turning into more of a cartwheel-flop hybrid, gave her a little distance, and time, to work with. She threw a shield up behind her without even glancing around as her momentum carried her forward. Lady Luck must have been on her side, because she felt two more spells splash harmlessly against her hastily cast barrier.

Then she heard something that made her blood run cold. She turned to look at her attackers, frozen in fear, as she heard the first syllable of the Killing Curse from behind the metal mask of one of the Death Eaters. She couldn't run fast enough. There was nothing to dodge behind. Her wand arm wasn't quick enough. It would pass through her shield. The young witch stared in shock as the hate-filled man spoke the syllables that would end her life. Time seemed to slow. "Avada-"

Registering too late for the Purists, a trio of Apparition cracks had sounded, followed in canon by a yell of "Stupefy!". The cursing Death Eater dropped. His friend turned to meet the new assault but joined the other before he could even raise his wand.

Standing meters away was the one person that had eluded her all night. Harry James Potter was a vision of fury. His arm was still pointed right where the fallen Death Eaters had stood, quivering. His eyes were ablaze, and he was shaking like he was seizing. By his side were the rest of the Trio, already scanning the area for threats, Ron casting Homenum Revelio every few steps. Hermione was at Harrys back, putting up an anti-muggle ward. She heard Ron mutter, "Clear".

Ginny remembered to breathe. She was safe. She was alive. Harry had saved her again. That had been waaay too close. She went to get up, but stopped when Harry took several quick steps towards her, wand still out. Why was he still on edge? He had got them...

Oh. He had his wand trained on _her_.

"Harry...?", she murmured, suddenly frightened as she rised slowly to her feet. His jaw was set, his eyes wide. "What is your middle name?", he growled.

"Harry what... it's Molly! It's Molly!". He had moved closer until he had the wand to her throat. He relaxed, but didn't lower the wand. A little softer, he asked again. "What is the name of your Pigmy Puff?" Ginny was still staring wide-eyed at the wand pressing into her flesh. "...Arnold".

The tension drained out of Harry and his face was full of relief. Pocketing his wand, he pulled Ginny into a hug. She was too shocked to do much more than breath her own sigh of relief. Harry whispered in her ear. "I'm sorry. We’ve been tracked and attacked already tonight. I had to be sure it was you. Are you ok?" Ginny hesitantly wrapped her arms around him. "I am now". She hisses in pain when her wrist bumped off Harrys back. It was probably sprained.

As they broke apart, Harry looked at her bruised wrist and whipped his wand out again, probably going to cast Episkey, then started cursing at himself. Ginny's eyes went wide. What was wrong? Harry spotted her wand in her hand and grabbed her arm. He looked right at her. "Don't cast anything! Its the Trace! Voldemort is using the Trace on underage witches and wizards like us to track us. That's how they found you."

The others had wandered over, their tasks completed. Ron stopped dead when he saw her. "Bloody hell. Ginny? How did you get out here?" She reluctantly stepped away from Harry, turning to face the Trio. "I flew-"

Herminone cut in. "No time. Harry, they have your Trace on that stunner. We need to move." Harry turned to face her. "What about Gin? We can't leave her here. They get an update on her location every time she defends herself." Ron's head snapped around having been gazing at her with confusion. "No way. She can't come with us."

Ginny grew angry. "Shut it Ron! I'm here to help! I'm coming!"

Everyone turned to Harry. He said nothing, only stared at Ginny. Hermione let out an exasperated sigh. "We have no time for this, we're moving now, before more arrive." Harry nodded curtly. Ron started swearing. Harry grabbed her shoulder suddenly, Hermione, he arm, and she was funnelled through a tight tube before being expunged on the doorstep of Number 12 Grimmauld Place.

As Harry stumbled, she caught him. It was almost natural. He had always suffered with Wizarding forms of travel. She was ready out of habit. In place of his usually grateful smile however, Harry's face was just blank. Ginny didn't like this. "Only one day on the run, and he's already shutting emotion out", she thought to herself.

She studied Harry out of the corner of her eye as the Trio - now a Quartet - passed into Grimmauld Place. He was wound tight, that was clear - his head was on a swivel constantly. She could guess why. If he meant what he said when breaking up with her, he likely felt personally responsible for their safety. He would totally blame himself if anything happened to any of them. That's just how Harry was. But this was a new extreme. War was changing Harry, and not for the better. She was seeing his best and worst qualities at their strongest - his protectiveness and his guilt.

They made their way into the sitting area, collapsing on couches. Hermione allowed a controlled burst of incendio light at the end of her wand, aimed at the grate. The flickering shadows made Harry's gaze even more disturbing. "Harry..."

He cut across her. "Why did you come after us, Gin? Are you crazy? You know how much danger being around me - us - puts you in... "

Ginny rolled her eyes. If I had a galleon for every time I've heard that. "Don't you think I know? You three are facing people and magic far beyond your skill"- Ron tried to interrupt. "No offence! But you are! You need all the help you can get! And I want to help. I'm good with a wand, I've trained with you all. I had your backs at the Department of Mysteries."

There was silence for a moment before Ron piped up. "Mom is never going to let this fly. She'll kill me."

"I'm not a little girl anymore. She hasn't realised that. I'm only a year younger than you three. I'm not useless and you all know that. Besides, Mom isn't here, Ron. The adults aren’t in charge anymore."

Hermione sighed before nodding. "Ginny has a point. Logically, we can use her. Tactically, we should take help when we can."

There was silence again. Then Harry exploded. "Dammit Gin! We broke up to protect you from Voldemort! Did that mean nothing to you? It wasn't a joke. He'll use you against me. Ron and Hermione are different because he already knew about our friendship. They weren't safe anyway! He calmed a little, looking away. "I'm sorry. I shouldn’t have shouted. I hate this whole situation. But I can't let you stay."

Ginny could not think of anything to say to that. Surprisingly, it was Hermione that saved her from having to reply. "None of us like this Harry. And I hate to say it, but you're wrong." Harry whipped around to look at her. "Hear me out! Ginny, with her iconic red hair, just stunned either Death Eaters or at least Aurors working for Voldemort. She was then saved by Undesirable Numbers One through Three. We left them alive, so Voldemort will know before long. I'm sorry, but it's too late. She's connected to us now, as more than just Ron's sister. She'll be taken and questioned for our location. She might be tortured. The rest of the Weasleys can deny knowing anything about our location, bases, tactics or plans and they would hold out under Veritasurem. Ginny won't. She's seen us, she's seen us in Number 12, and she's seen us illegally stun what could be, potentially, Ministery Personnel or at least people loyal to Voldemort, and she attacked them first too. I don't know if she could break the secret on the Fidelius here, but we can't risk it. She is safer with us and we are safer with her here."

Harry and Ron turned to look at her. She could see the gears turning. Hermione was probably right. They couldn't make her leave now, could they?

"... Ugh! I hate it when you're right!" Ron pointed a finger at Ginny. "You better stay safe because I don’t want to kill that trumped up Lord just die at Moms hands." Ginny cracked a small smile. Ron rolled his eyes at her before getting up and moving to the Kitchen. "I'm hungry!" Hermione got up, muttering and following after Ron. "Gotta make sure he doesn't burn the house down..."

Harry stared at her again. Merlin, he had to stop doing that. Ginny stared back, chin raised. "Well?", she asked.

Harrys face fell into his hands, looking beaten. His voice was barely a whisper. "I don't like this, Gin. I don't wanna lose you."

His change of tack threw her, and she sat there for a moment before sitting down beside him on the ancient couch. "You aren't going to lose me. If anything, you have me back now. We'll be ok. We always are. We'll fight hard, tooth and nail, Gryffindor style.." He smiled at her, and she enveloped him in her arms.

"I'm sorry for being a prat today. I'm just worried. I already lost my family, then lost my Godfather, which was almost worse since I knew the man. I can't lose my friends too. You're all too important to me. But you're right. We’ll fight and win. We have something Voldemort never had. Love, true loyalty, family and friendship. I can almost see the meaning behind what Dumbledore used to rant on about. It gives us a power he doesn't have."

Ginny smiled properly for the first time in what seems like an age. As she held him to the familiar background of Ron and Hermione bickering over something, she knew, somehow, that he was right.

They would win.


End file.
